


Of Rum, Silly Games, and Warm Feelings

by imadra_blue



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One-Shot, Pre-Slash, Romantic Gestures, Vignette, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/imadra_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small little moment of fun in Finn and Poe's burgeoning relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Rum, Silly Games, and Warm Feelings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luthe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthe/gifts).



> Set after The Force Awakens. Written for Luthe's request of "I want Poe getting Finn stupid drunk and daring him to do stuff."

…

"This stuff is great!" Finn practically sang. He held up the bottle of Corellian rum, his toothy grin photogenic enough that Poe wished he had a holorecorder. Finn's flushed skin only made him even more handsome.

Poe sipped at his bottle, trying not to ogle Finn. Not for the first time, he felt it a shame that Finn had spent most of his life with a helmet over his pretty face. Finn's face was made for Resistance recruitment posters and erotic holonovels, not stormtrooper helmets.

"I am so warm," Finn muttered. "Am I supposed to be warm?" He blinked. "Am I sick? Do I need to go back to the bacta tanks?"

"No, no, you just got out of there. It's just the rum." Poe grinned and put his empty bottle down. He wondered how he could make the night more interesting for Finn. "Hey, let's head to the range."

"The range?" Finn's brows drew together. "You're right. I haven't fired a blaster since I came out of bacta. Let's go." And before Poe could argue, he snatched Poe's hand and practically dragged him out of their room and down the hall. When Admiral Statura raised an eyebrow as they passed, Poe waved at him with his free hand.

Finn didn't stop until they reached the shooting range. At this time of night, they were alone. Finn glanced around, frowning, then paused and stared down at his and Poe's hand, fingers interlocked. "Rey didn't like me holding her hand."

"I don't mind."

"Do you think she'll come back?"

Poe squeezed Finn's fingers. It was difficult to compete with a girl like Rey, but he could understand Finn's connection to her. It wasn't so different from their own. "Of course she will. And with Luke Skywalker, no less."

Finn grinned and squeezed Poe's hand in return. "Yeah. Until then, I better get practicing my shots. Trouble is sure to follow her." He dropped Poe's hand, much to Poe's disappointment, and grabbed a blaster lying on a nearby crate.

"No doubt. She is that kind of woman."

Finn paused. "There are different kinds of women?"

Poe clapped him on the back. "As many as there are kinds of men." He also grabbed a blaster as a rather wicked idea came to his mind that had little to do with blasters. Perhaps it was the rum that had his wires so crossed. "Now, do you want to play 'truth or dare?'"

"Yes, of course!" Finn grinned, the smell of Corellian rum still on him. He hadn't even finished his bottle, yet it still left him flushed and swaying. It seemed stormtroopers were not conditioned to hold their liquor. "What's that? Is it a shooting game?"

"Kind of. It's a question game. We ask each other 'truth or dare.' If we pick truth, we have to answer any question with the truth. If we pick dare, we have to do something daring. Since we're at the range, it can be very daring."

"How is that a shooting game?"

Poe sighed. "Truth or dare, Finn?"

Finn licked his lips and checked his blaster's settings. "Dare!" Of course he would pick dare first time out. Finn was always half-terrified, yet never really backed down from anything. It was the most honest sort of bravery.

"All right. I dare you to steal Admiral Statura's underwear. Just one pair will do. Clean, preferably."

Finn blinked. "How is this a shooting game, again?"

"How else do you expect to break the lock on his door?"

"Good point!"

And Finn was off.

…

When Finn awoke, his head hurt. He was not on his bunk with the other ground troops, as he expected, but lying on a very uncomfortable cot with a strange blanket laying on him. Next to the cot, on the floor, was Poe, propped up against the wall, eyes closed. A quick glance around told Finn they were in a Resistance prison cell.

"What have I done?" Finn asked, feeling horror expand throughout his chest. Had he done something so horrible that would make the Resistance send him away? What would he do then? He sat up and stared at the closed door. Oddly, the door didn't appear locked, which seemed to defeat the point of a being in a prison cell. 

"Eh?" Poe sat up, wiping his mouth. "What's wrong?"

"We're in prison!" Finn held his head, trying to will the room to stay still. All of a sudden everything hurt. "And I don't feel good."

"Oh, don't worry about it, that's just a hangover. And the General said we could leave in the morning."

Finn peered over at Poe, who looked oddly smug. "The General! What did we do that made her put us here? Is she going to send us to reconditioning? Does Resistance reconditioning hurt?"

Poe looked oddly sad. "No, of course not. We don't even have reconditioning. She just put us in here because we both got a bit tipsy last night and instead of stealing Admiral Statura's underwear last night, you broke into her room and stole her favorite pillows. She wanted you to sleep it off. I'm the one in trouble for getting you drunk."

"What? How did I get drunk?"

"The Corellian rum. You don't remember?"

"Not really." If Finn tried very hard, he could recall bits of rum consumption, shooting a door lock, a room with the softest pillows he had ever seen in his life, and Poe sweetly laying a blanket on him and stroking his cheek once. The last snatch of memory made Finn feel as warm as if he still had Corellian rum in his system. "Is the General really mad?"

"Yes, but mostly at me. She thought you cuddling her pillows was kind of adorable." Poe smiled. "And it was."

"Oh." Finn considered him. "I'm not sure it's a good idea to play that shooting game of yours again. I think we should try mine. It's very simple: the one who shoots the most targets wins."

"If you insist." Poe leaned forward, curls of his dark hair falling over his brow. There was something smoky in his eye that Finn didn't quite understand but found intriguing. "But will you lead me by the hand to the range again?"

Finn grinned, though he couldn't say why. Poe paid him a lot of attention. It was rather easy to get used to attention. Especially Poe's attention. "Do you want me to?"

Poe held out his hand in answer.


End file.
